Moon I confused with a sparrow
convulsing in her lap      I would invite you in   
I would let you stay  
in the morning I would wash you
would not betray you
Moon I would like to tell you
what happened     when I turned 30
(he died)   
I would tell you
with clean water      with chaste black air
with a pale ribbon in your hair
I would not confuse you     
Moon    is it true what they did to you?   
(you do not have to say)
Moon    I’m serious    a sparrow
with folded wings & trembling     its heart
a black napkin       in your lap
Moon like pickled radish
sliced thin        
Moon that falls through stories
like a rock through yarn     Moon
that always escapes the enemy camp
on a stolen horse
that streaks its cheeks with blood
Moon like the larder of a hillfort
scraps of pottery
a white bullock on a feast day
its flank painted purple
Moon that festers like the youngest son
in an ancient house 
Moon that dances on a leash
before the court
Moon that rides north
with an unsheathed sword
Moon that is a villa
full of drunken mapmakers
draped over a chair
Moon like the trees painted white
in Greece    
the white hair of the dead
in New Orleans
Moon whiter than the girls
in turquoise skirts
in Santa Fe  
Moon like a princess
whipped in front of her armies
Moon that returns to the hillfort
with a crystal axe
in a rain barrel
More silver than the hills in Los Angeles
you float in black velvet
like Elvis
tearfully vowing revenge
like a Dali clock
like a white alligator
like decolletage
Moon like a string of pearls the night before
the expedition
a Keffiyeh and an ivory handled
pistol
on the map a speck
Moon that is just a little girl
that trembles  
Moon that throws out its back
in French Lick
Moon that is a distant relative
of the countess   
that rides in
from the steppes   
a rabbit before the avalanche
feather before the horde
Moon that bores
through the branches
I hide myself in  
Moon with a daring little sash
tuck me in
tell me my favorite story
before I tell you yours
the one where you never leave
(I have never left)
bright bauble
floating on dark water    
you can afford to be generous   
you will be a ball of wind
I will be thirty-one     
he never gets a day older
Moon that has no color at all
no odor
Moon that is the sound of chimes
in the winter
Moon of my fathers’ fathers 
is it too late to die young? 
Or to say what we mean without
being clever or mean or unbecomingly
subtle?     Moon
I haven’t had a car in years
Moon that trembles like the reflection
of a castle wall
a girl in a puffy skirt that steps off
the cliff 
that twirls in a tight spiral   
Moon is it true that you cry for us
wait for us
in your ivory pool?
Moon that is a very good girl
Moon that sounds more and more
like a name
I haven’t the strength to say.
Moon of my mother and my sisters 
bring him back to me
for a single day

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